


When We Were Young (And Alive)

by Malathyne



Category: Final Fantasy X
Genre: Braska's Pilgrimage, Doomed Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Homesickness, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Memories, Regret, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 09:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1739642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malathyne/pseuds/Malathyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Memories are what kept Jecht sane as he murdered Spira. On this night, he recalls the second Moonflow crossing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When We Were Young (And Alive)

**Author's Note:**

> Rated for the un-detailed description of the lead-up to sex. Vague descriptions of Sin attacking a village, including blood. Also, discussion of inevitable death, because pilgrimage.

Deep within the shell of Sin, Jecht keeps memories close to him. Memories of games, the greatest, the brightest, the fastest, the bloodiest blitz games in his history — Memories of places, the houseboat, the blitz sphere, the Calm Lands under the Spiran night sky ( _so many stars_ ) — Memories of people, of Daja, creative and kind, of Tidus, energetic and bratty, of Yuna, sweet and small, of Braska, serene and sad and accepting, of Auron.

Auron. Auron. Auron. Auron, moral and straight-forward and loyal. Auron.

Jecht keeps memories close to him for when times are bad. Times are usually bad, but not always. Sometimes, there’s peace. Sometimes, he can hide away under the ice of Lake Macalania and just sit there, do nothing, kill nothing, just sit and listen to the hymn. Sometimes, he thinks Shiva knows he’s there. He thinks she, and the rest of the fayth, feel bad for him. Jecht hates it when people feel sorry for him.

Times are bad. Times are really bad right now. He doesn’t know where he is — He doesn’t know what village this is, he doesn’t know the names of the people he’s murdering — Times are really bad right now. He clings to his memories, he sinks into them, loses himself in them.

Sometimes, he hates himself for it. He always hates himself, but sometimes he hates himself specifically for this. For remembering the good times, for remembering peace and happiness while people die by his hand.

For remembering sex while he burns their world.

They passed by the Moonflow twice. They visited all the stops along Spira twice (except for Bevelle, except for Zanarkand), once on the way down to Besaid and once on the way up to Mount Gagazet. The first Moonflow visit was a disaster — He doesn’t think about that memory a lot. Sometimes he does, to remind himself of how he changed, to remind himself that he changed for the better — far too late, but it happened.

But the second time… The second time, it was night. The entire river — imagine this — the entire river, aglow. Glowing. As beautiful as the lights of Zanarkand. Pyreflies everywhere, gliding above the water, swimming under the water, lighting up the whole damn river with pastel colors. It was so bright, it was the only night he couldn’t see stars flooding the sky.

He’d never seen anything like it, and he told Braska and Auron so. The summoner laughed and shook his head, said something quietly about this being his second time, murmured something about a romantic evening, walked away, towards the platform where the shoopuf driver waited. Auron stood with him, beside him a moment, staring out at the magic.

" _Come,_ " the other guardian finally said. " _Lord Braska’s waiting for us._ "

Jecht was uncharacteristically quiet as they crossed the Moonflow. He stared over the edge, down at the water where it met the shoopuf’s side. The water was darker than he expected. Because of the shadow from the basket on the shoopuf’s back? Or because of the dead city resting underneath them?

" _Careful,_ " Braska said. Jecht looked over at him. In the pyrefly light, his calm smile seemed ethereal and holy. " _Don’t get too close to the pyreflies. They’re oddly strong here._ "

" _Strong?_ " Jecht turned to flop down on his seat. " _Like, fiend-strong?_ "

" _No, just…_ " Braska shrugged. " _These pyreflies are said to inspire strong emotions._ "

" _Emotions, huh…?_ " Jecht folded his arms across his chest.

Braska smiled again, and Jecht knew him well enough by now to see the sadness in his eyes. " _In my experience, they are especially good at taking the small feelings tucked away in your heart and making them more powerful._ "

" _Huh._ " Jecht looked over the edge again, watched as a pyrefly curled close to the bottom of the basket. " _Do the pyreflies mess with the shoopuf, too?_ " The pyrefly climbed higher and higher.

Braska laughed. " _I don’t know. But it’s a good question. We’ll probably never know._ "

Other pyreflies joined the one Jecht was watching. He leaned back, away from the edge of the basket. " _I think they like me._ "

" _They’re probably drawn to humans,_ " Auron said mildly.

" _It’s all right,_ " said Braska peacefully, watching as one floated lazily through the center of the basket. " _They’re harmless._ "

" _Why tell me to be careful, then?_ "

Braska paused, his eyes growing distant. The pyrefly spiraled through the other side of the basket and disappeared. His answer came in a murmur, but it was lost under the ghostly whispers of the pyreflies around them. Jecht glanced at Auron, but the younger man wasn’t looking at him; his eyes were fixed on Braska’s face, hands clenched into fists on his knees.

Though Guadosalam was only walk down the last short stretch of the Highroad, the three decided to make camp on the riverbank to enjoy the rest of the night in peace. Jecht lay sleepless on his back, hands tucked under his neck. He didn’t want to miss a minute of that night, he wanted to soak it all up, memorize everything, so that when he got back to Zanarkand he could… he could…

But there wasn’t any going back, was there? He knew that now. He took a long, deep breath, and exhaled it at the night sky. A moment later, he heard a whisper from his left.

" _… Jecht?_ "

" _Yeah?_ " He turned his head to look at Auron. This wasn’t the first time he couldn’t sleep, Jecht knew, and it wasn’t the first time they’d shared a sleepless night talking, but…

Auron was sitting, legs tucked in a lotus position, staring out over the water. Jecht watched him for a moment, waiting for him to say something else. When nothing else was said, Jecht sat up, too, and scratched the back of his neck.

" _I know. We’re getting closer._ "

Closer to Braska’s death. Auron took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Jecht found himself tracing the line of his neck with his eyes.

" _There must be something,_ " Auron muttered.

Jecht scratched the back of his neck again. " _Yeah._ " He glanced over at where Braska slept, curled up amongst the roots of a tree. With his eyes, Jecht traced over the lines of his face, too, and saw the loneliness etched in each and every one. _Romantic night, huh?_ he thought to himself. _With his wife, yeah… makes sense. Makes a damn lot of sense._

" _Jecht, I…_ "

" _Look. We’ll think of something, all right? There’s no way we’re gonna let Braska…_ " The words died in Jecht’s throat.

Auron took another deep breath. Jecht watched him for a moment, followed the line from his neck down his shoulder to the curve of his elbow.

" _There’s so much for him to do._ " Sometimes, Jecht didn’t understand why he couldn’t just shut up. " _He said he wanted to get Yuna outta Bevelle, didn’t he? He’s gotta see her grow up, and he’s gotta show her her first shoopuf._ " Jecht found himself nodding, his arms folded across his chest. " _And I’ll be there to teach her how to swim, and how to play blitz so good she’ll beat all the boys at it. And you’ll, uh…_ " Here, he was embarrassed to admit, he faltered. " _You’ll be there so I can point and show her what a stiff is and teach her not to be one._ " He nodded. " _And you’ll teach her the stuff girls should know, like cooking and sewing, ‘cause you know all that._ "

Auron was staring at him now and, though his expression was clear in the pyrefly light, Jecht couldn’t read it, so he did the only thing he knew to do: He kept babbling.

" _Braska’s gotta live, see? He’s gotta be there to help her with magic and fight off the boys, ‘cause you just know they’re gonna be all over her when she grows up. He’s gotta be there to… to tell her stories about her mom, about how beautiful she was and how much Yuna looks just like her, and all that._ " Jecht gestured wildly. " _He’s got so much to live for, so we’re gonna make sure he doesn’t die. Right?_ "

Auron, still staring at him, shook his head. " _But… how?_ "

" _How…_ " Jecht frowned for a moment. " _Aha!_ " He slapped his fist into his palm. " _We’ve got time before we reach Bevelle, right? We’ll talk him into stopping the pilgrimage._ "

" _What?_ "

" _The both of us!_ " Jecht gestured again. " _We’ll gang up on him, and then we’ll be right there at Bevelle anyway, so we could grab Yuna and run back down to Besaid. How ‘bout it?_ "

Auron was silent for a long moment. " _He won’t,_ " he said quietly. " _He won’t give up the pilgrimage._ "

" _… I know._ " And he did. He knew Braska would never give up — There were just too many things… He would never give up. He would keep on marching, right on up to Zanarkand, and — and Jecht and Auron would be marching right along with him, because… because…

Jecht still doesn’t know how it happened. He never noticed how close he was to Auron, didn’t know if he was the one who moved close or if Auron did, didn’t know who made the first move — didn’t know if he kissed Auron or if Auron kissed him — it just — _happened_ , and before either of them knew it, they were tumbling to the ground, desperately clutching one another, struggling to keep quiet, desperately moving for more — more friction, more heat, more contact, more connection — _Auron. Auron. Auron_ —

The pyreflies were so bright, so bright, like stars, Jecht thought blindly. A blanket of stars on the riverbed of regret.

Times are bad, but they’re getting better. He’s drifting away in the sea now, far within the depths of the ocean. He thinks he can still see blood in the water, but knows it’s just his mind playing tricks on him. He thinks he’s bound for Macalania. He hopes he is. He really needs to hear the fayth right now. For some reason, the hymn lets him hate himself a little less.

_Braska, I’m sorry. Auron, I’m sorry. Yuna, Tidus, Daja, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry._

Sometimes, Jecht thinks his memories are the only things that keep him sane. He’s probably right. His memories, and the fayth’s song, and the knowledge that somewhere out there, Tidus and Yuna and Auron are fighting. Fighting fiends, fighting Yevon, fighting Sin — fighting him. If they’re fighting, it means they’re alive. If they’re fighting, it means they still have a chance to put an end to this.

Sometimes, Jecht thinks that if he dies, he won’t hate himself so much any more.

_You’re late, Auron…_


End file.
